River Tide: Running
by Jayfeattheris Awesome
Summary: Emerilla, Thranduil's wayward neice, is all too eager to leave the forest. The problem is, she isn't old enough yet. But when she accidently discovers a newcomer to the forest, and helps him escape Mirkwood, she knows that the time is near when she will have to take her chance. But will her freedom have a larger role in the events to come? How could an elfling save the world?


The Niece of the Elvenking

Rebellious. Legolas could think of no other word to describe his wayward cousin. She dangled loogies over guards, graphitized portraits with a somewhat comical mustache, and once in a while, an elf would wake up to find graphite all over his or her face. She was a handful and a prankster, that was for sure. Even _he_ hadn't gotten into _that_ much trouble..._Well...sort_ _of_.

And since he was her older cousin, that also made him in charge of training her. Which made it even more difficult. Because that was what Emerilla was. Difficult. Even Tauriel had her doubts about Emerilla's attention span.

The young elfling would often have more focus on doing tricks, attempting to hang from branches by her legs, and trying to find new ways of make farting sounds ( some of which were rather creative, if one though that rubbing wet hands together rapidly to make squelching noises was creative). She paid more attention to her friend, William, than to learning how to use a bow.

Orphaned at the age of seven, Emerilla had come to live at the palace after the death of her parents. Her mother had been Thranduil's sister, Rildeil. Legolas had never really met his aunt, but he supposed that she had looked a bit like Emerilla, since his father often said they looked alike.

Emerilla was only five foot two, with tawny hair and bright green eyes rimmed with a rich, hazel brown. She was a picky eater, so she was very skinny, but when nobody was keeping an eye on her, she would sneak away, and some food (usually cucumbers, bread, or salmon) would go missing from the store room.

Another thing about Emerilla was that she had been born only a few days apart from another elfling, William. Orphaned with Emerilla, his and her families had practically lived together, so they shared a close bond. William was the more thoughtful of the two of them, quiet and a little shy, while Emerilla was the crazy, hyper-active, super-clever, rebellious, wild-child of the pair.

William was about as tall as Emerilla, and he preferred his hair kept short**(NOT A BUZZCUT! Just imagine Adam from ****_Lab Rats_****, and make him a blond, them make him shorter and skinnier. THAT'S what William looks like.)** and it usually stuck out over his forehead a little, like a blond outcropping on a cliff face.

Since his parents were dead, and Emerilla couldn't remember their names, Tauriel had been put in charge of his training, which meant that she and Legolas often took the pair out together for bow practice. William was showing great promise in being an excellent bowman. Emerilla… not so much. She often fumbled with her bow, dropping more arrows when she tipped over her quiver while trying to retrieve an arrow that she had dropped. More often were the times that the arrow tilted away from the bow when she set it to the string.

He had tried to show her how to throw a knife, but she had almost impaled William by accident when she missed the target by a long shot one day, so he had kept her away from knives from that time on. And she just wasn't interested in fighting with short blades, like the ones he had. As he stood on the balcony, looking out over the forest, Legolas felt as if Emerilla didn't have any preferred weapon of choice that she could work with efficiently.

He turned as Tauriel entered the balcony. "You better go," she told him," Emerilla is up to her tricks again. More loogies, I'm afraid. It seems to be a favorite of hers."

"What am nI going to do with her! She doesn't like short blades, she's hopeless at bows, and she almost killed William when she practiced knife throwing…" he exclaimed. He let out a sigh. Was there nothing that Emerilla could work with?

"Have you tried her on swords yet? She's always waving that favorite stick of hers around like a rapier. She accidently whacked me in the shin yesterday. I'm going to show William around the armory tomorrow, perhaps you should bring her. Let her see the choices that she has." Tauriel suggested.

Legolas thought for a few moments. It was true; Emerilla _did_ express an interest in swords. When she was eight, she had constantly asked him to show her a sword fight, and when she was nine, she and William had often played a game where they reenacted battles they had heard in stories.

Perhaps, there was a weapon his cousin could wield without goofing up. Maybe there was hope after all…

Emerilla lay in bed, drowsing. She had woken up a few minute ago, from a strange dream where she had struck up an interesting conversation with her breakfast. She usually stayed in bed like this for as long as she could(at least, as long as she dared), usually to annoy Legolas. She could hear William snoring below her on the bottom bunk. She was on the top bunk. They had vied for the top bunk when they were ten with a fake sword fight, using sticks. She had won, and had slept on the top bunk ever since.

Three loud bangs sounded from the door as Legolas came to wake them up. Emerilla groaned and pulled the cover over her head. "Just five more minutes…" she groaned.

"Nope! Not today, Emerilla. Get up, and get ready. Tauriel has invited us along with Williams training for today, so both of you hurry up and meet us at the training hollow." Her cousin's voice sounded from outside the door, muffled slightly.

Emerilla let out a long sigh, lying in bed a few minutes more. Finally, she sat up, leaning against the rail of the bunk. She raised her left leg, and began to pound on the bunk with her foot. A frightened yelp sounded from the bottom bunk, and she looked down just in time to see William tumble out of his bed in a writhing, tangled, mass of white bed sheets.

Emerilla wrinkled her nose. "You really need to take a look at my book of tricks again, if I'm still able to freak you out with _that_ move." she told him.

William poked his head out from the tangle of sheets, his short, blond hair flattened and ruffled in places as a result of bedhead. "In all honesty, I think anybody would freak out if they woke up thinking that the world was coming to an end."

Emerilla roled her eyes. William was her best friend; he always would be, but sometimes his courage was a bit lacluster, and his scientific logic could get on her nerves sometimes. "Come on, lets get dressed and ready before my cousin breaks down the door." she told him.

She slid down the bunk ladder, a trick she had seen Legolas do from time to time if he was in a rush to get somewere. She ran past Wiliam, who was still untangling himself from his bed sheets, and went around the corner of their small abode.

That was one of the plus sides of being an elfling in the Mirkwood palace, whether they were the neice of the king or not. Since elves had such long lifespans, they were very rarly able to have children, and,as such, the female elves rarly survived giving birth when they did. So, since elfling were such a rare thing, they were treated with great care, and Thranduil had enacted a new "tradition" once Legolas was born, stating that no elfling below the age of twenty could leave the safty of the forest and/or the house of his or her parents or guardians.

But, both Emerilla and Williams mums had survived...more or less. In order for protection, bothe their families built their houses next to eachother, right near the edge of the forest, near a large hill peaked with a cliff shaped like the head of an eagle. The only thing she really remembered well about her old home was the eagle rock. That and the voice of her father, whose name she had forgotten, teaching her how to use a bow that was way to big for her.

Oh, how she missed that voice! Perhaps, if he were still alive, he could have made her into an archer as fine as her cousin. But part of her knew, that no matter who trained her, a bow and arrow would never feal right to her. Whenever Legolas or Tauriel drew back their bowstrings, they looked all noble and couragous and heroic, like something strait out of an ancient legend. But when she tried to do the same, she felt awkward and silly, like a toddler trying to act like a king.

Her old house near the eagle peak had been attacked by ugly-looking creatures that she had since learned were called orcs. She remembered giant wolves and fire and screams. _Run into the forest! Don't Stop! Take William with you and don't stop running! Fight when you have too, but don't stop running!_ a voice would crie in the echos of her memories, whenever she focused hard on remembering.

Running. Even now, she felt like she was running. But it hadn't felt like she was running away, when she had grabed Williams wrist and dashed for the deeper parts of the woods, as their parents and homes burned behind them. She could remember the running so clearly. Her small feet thumbing on the twigs and tapping on the ocassional tree root, her terror makeing her forget that elves could run faster with lighter steps.

She could feel William's sweaty wrist gripped firmly in her right hand, his panting with exhaustion and terror mixed with what sounded like an atempt at sobbing. She didn't remember her cousin finding them in the woods while hunting. All she remembered was that her parents were dead.

Her hut now was built around a tree trunk as wide as five Williams head to toe, and they each had their own little closet for getting dressed in( dressing had started getting awkward when they turned ten) and a large pot in a small room for the...er, private business, and a mode of escape when William was blabing on about one scientific marvel or the other.

She went into her closet, putting on a pair of white lether pants for active use, and a hazel tunic with a green undershirt. She loved to mix and match her clothes, especialy the way that just the right under shirt with just the right tunic could make her look like an adventurer.

She left the closet, and put on a pair of dark brown boots that almost went up to her knees. _Now_ she felt like a _real_ adventurer. She came around the trunk, to find that William had finally gotten out of his bed sheets. His hair stuck out all to one side, as if a strong gust of wind had blown violently on one side of his face and tried to blow his hair away.

Right now, he looked a little flustered after his struggle with his covers, and the fact that his night clothes were a tinsy bit too large for him made him look even more ridicules, like his skin was hanging off of his bones. His baggy shirt hung down past the place where his legs were attached to his hips, so that only half of his night pants were visible. His night pants were slightly baggy as well, hanging down a little past his knees.

"You should really start thinking about waking me up in a more _peaceful _manner, perhaps? That _really _is getting annoying." he told her when she walked into the room. But she found it hard to take him seriously, when right after the words had left his mouth, his baggy pants fell off of his skinny frame, though, thankfully, his shirt was long enough to cover his underpants.

William let out a frightened and embarrassed yelp, and tried to pull his shirt farther down his legs, rushing past Emerilla at an odd, squatting cross between a waddle and a hobble. Emerilla had to clap her hands over her mouth to keep herself under control. This was the monday morning routine, most of the time. She would bang her foot on the bed, he would fall out of his bed, and then his pants would fall off for the hundreth time. She'd have thought that he would have figured out the patern by now, and either stop wearing thoses perticular pants, or that he should tighten them after extracting himself from the bed sheets.

Emerilla straitened herself, and walked out of the hut door, which was a few feet away from the wall that their beds were attached to. She stepped onto a platform made of sturdy, wooden planks that overlooked a scattering of other small huts made of white wood that made them look like they were made of marble. Ferns,bushes, and small trees scattered the ground between the huts and houses, and it looked like a picture of Rivendell that she had seen in a book.

She went down platform, which spiralled downwards around the tree to the ground. When she was nearly there, William caught up with her, fumbling with his belt buckle as if he had rushed out the door while he was only half way through getting dressed. Today, he wore a green, long-sleaved shirt, with dark brown leather pants and a pair of greenish-brown leather shoes.

"Finally have the solution to keeping your pants on that we've been looking for for seven years?" she joked when he stopped in front of her.

"Ha, ha, very funny Emerilla. If I remember correctly, you couldn't even wear pants without holding them up all the time when you were eight." he retorted sarcastically.

"Come on, before Legolas throws a fit. I bet it's more short blades again, today. It always is, on a monday." she told him gloomily.

"Why do you hate short blades so much? I think they're fun; you can carry them in any pocket, but you can do at least a hundred battle moves with it." William said, excitement in his voice as he talked about the short blades.

Emerilla kicked the grass in front of her as she walked. " Short blades just don't feel completely right with me. I mean, sure they're okay and all ; but they're missing something. Something that no other weapon has. Uggg! I wish we didn't have to train with weapons! We're only fourteen, for Pete's sake! Why can't we train when we're twenty, or sixteen or eighteen, like human kids! It's._So_._BOREING!_" she said, frustration rediating in her voice._ If I didn't have to train, we could be _normal_. I could explore the forest, and learn to ride horses, and make things out of random branches that I find on the ground._

"You train at a young age because the world is getting more dangerous, even inside our borders. If something bad happens, we need you to be able to defend yourselves. You are the first elflings to be born in nearly a century; you are the first things that an enemy would attack, if they got to the palace." a voice told them from the doorway to the training hollow. It was Legolas, and he looked as annoyed as ever at their untimely fashion.

"Come on; Tauriel is waiting." he told them, leading the way into the hollow, which looked more like an arena. Emerilla roled her eyes; typical, all-serious Legolas.

Tauriel was waiting next to a door at the far end of the hollow, the word _armory_ written above it in elvish. Emerilla stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping to the ground. "We're not _acctually_ going _inside_ the armory today!?" she exclaimed.

"If you don't want to come, stay outside, then." Tauriel said, opening the doors to reveal a long, wide room filled with spears, swords, and bows.

They stepped inside, her and william trying to look at everything at once. "Woa! Cool swords!" Emerilla eclaimed as they walked past a crate of long swords with blades that narrowed to a needle-thin tip.

"Those are rapiers, Emerilla. A weapon of choice for many elven guards." Legolas told her, indicating the scabbard around Tauriel's waist. Emerilla had always wondered why it was so thin. _I guess I now have my answer._

They walked through the armory, Tauriel pointing out the locations of the weapons to William along the way. A mischivious grin spread across Emerilla's face as she saw a pile of rusty, dirty-looking armor stuffed in one corner, an ugly looking helmet with a face piece on the top of a gross-looking chest plate.

"It's very improtant to remember to _always_ put the sword away in the the bin _point down_, that way, nobody gets cut when they try to take the sword out." Tauriel was saying when Emerilla stepped up behind William. The elven guard let out a gasp, and William whirled around to face Emerilla, who was breathing noisily.

Emerilla shook her head rapidly, making the most ugly sounds she could muster. William yelled in fright, and jumped backward so quickly that he fell flat on his back, and managed to knock Tauriel over in the process. Emerilla was wearing the ugly helmet and mask that she had found.

She took off the mask, laughing hysterically. Legolas had claped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing. "Man, I totally got you guys!" Emerilla laughed. "That's gotta be the richest prank I've _ever_ pulled!"

"_That_ was comedy gold." Legolas agreed.

"_That_... nearly gave me a heart attack." William panted as Tauriel hepled him up.

Emerilla roled her eyes. "That was the _whole point_. That's the point of lots of pranks; to scare the pants off someone." she said.

"Come on, then. Lets see how well you do with a sword in your hand instead of a prank.." Legolas told her, tossing a long, wooden stick to her.

She caught it, looking interested. Then a sly grin swept across her face. " Alright, then. Lets see how well you do fighting swords instead of pranks, shall we?" she retorted coolly.

Legolas led them back out of the armory, a wooden practice sword in his hands as well. "All right, first lets see how well you do on offense, then we'll see about def-" his last word came out more like half a yell, as Emerilla jabbed her fake sword at his stomach, and he had to fumble to block her.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Emerilla said, doing her best impression of Tauriel when she got annoyed. "You should know, cousin, that the first rule of battle is to expect the unexpected. That is, after all, the one thing you repeat so much it makes me want to hit you." she told him in a casual, cool, scolding manner, while running one hand down the fake blade.

"Alright then. Defense." Legolas told her, a smirk on his face. He was obviosly pleasantly suprised at his cousin, and her sudden attack. She had _finally_ begun to put the skills he had taught her to use.

He rushed at her, his sword pointed down at the ground for an uppercut. He wouldn't _acctually_ hit her; he would strick _very_ softly, or miss on purpose. But for Emerilla, time seemed to slow down, and every detail, every smallest bit of information, screamed out to her, begging to be noticed. This was who she was; the girl with an eye that no detail could escape. Most elves chose to ignor the details

She could see the angle an acorn would land, how far William could shoot an arrow if he pulled it back far enough, and what angle it would lang at. She could tell that an elf in the trees was about to trip on one of her pranks by the faint sound of his feet tapping overhead, and that, remembering how she had placed the prank, a few globs of it would land next to Tauriel, nearly hitting William ( she didn't need to remember or look at anything to know he would yelp in fright. Experience taught her _that_).

But most importantly, she knew what dirtection Legolas would swing his sword, based off of what angle it was at and how fast he was going forward. Time sped up again, and she moved. She doged to she side, catching her cousin's sword with his, hilt locking with hilt. She spun , knocking the sword to his side, and then, when she had come full circle, placing the tip of her own fake blade at his throat with a sly smirk on her face.

A surprised yell came from above, and Emerilla stepped sideways as a small drizzle of pudding came from above, a huge glob of it landing next to William, who was standing next to Tauriel with his jaw hanging open. Both Tauriel and Legolas looked surprised as well, staring at her as if she had deer parading out of her nose.

"Um... why are you all looking at me like that?" she asked awkwardly. Perhaps it was the fact that they had almost become victims of her pudding prank.

"Well...you certainly have the skill for it, I guess..." Legolas said after a while.

Emerilla narrowed her eyes. The skill for... what, exactly?

**Okay, here we are. That new fic I was talking about. Now, one thing I want to address is the sad amount of reviews I get for my fanfictions. Most of them are from the same person. Secondly, I will not be updating Wings of Storm : Palace of Lies for a while, because I am stuck and too full of Ideas for other fanfictions. Also, I wanted to mention that I need two names for Prince Coal's dragonets, because that is one were I am hopelessly stuck. I have the name and description for the first Dragonet : Lemming, a pure white male dragonet. However, If you think that Lemming's name stinks to high heavens, feel free to make a different suggestion. ( I need ideas for his summer markings.)**

** Be sure to include the dragonet's summer markings, as well as eye color and gender. I only have room for two new dragonets. Keep in mind that they are Ice dragons. I also need at least sixe names, descriptions, and personalities for the Air dragons that will be visiting the Ice dragon palace later in the story.**

** Anyway, please read and review my storys, people. The less reviews I get, the more time I'll take to update. And I don't mean reviews from the same person over and over again (sorry, Brightcloud), I mean reviews from a whole bunch of different people.**

** Also, my computer is busted, so I'm stuck using a school computer, which means that I'm going to be updating even less now. Sorry, no massive update barrage during Christmas break.**

** PLEASE READ AND REVEIW. Thank you.**


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